


i'm already saved

by alittlesummerwind



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, graphic depictions of self harm suicide etc, group therapy is fun, mental hospital hijinks, please be careful b4 reading!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlesummerwind/pseuds/alittlesummerwind
Summary: the losers are stuck in derry psychiatric hospital, all brought together by one thing: their need for help. aka: “I’ll take ‘Episodes of Blinding Rage for two hundred, Alex."





	i'm already saved

**Author's Note:**

> QUICK HEADS UP: extreme TW for suicide attempt mention (and graphic description of it), future mentions of self harm, eating disorders, depression, anxiety, etc. this is a fic centered around mental health so be wary.
> 
> i am writing this as someone with depression and anxiety so basicallyeverything i write is centered in my own personal experiences, and as a friend of someone with an eating disorder: i apologize if anything seems inaccurate but i am drawing from my own life and what has happened to me! if you have anything to say feedback-wise feel free to shoot me a message @ kasqbraks.tumblr.com :)
> 
> title from "chemical angel" by watsky

Eddie hated group therapy. To be fair, he hated most of the things about being at Derry Psychiatric Hospital. He hated feeling crazy, he hated the fact that he had to be here in the first place, he hated how cold and flourescent it was in every room, and he hated how he was always being poked and prodded at. It reminded him too much of his mother and her constant check-ups. _But that was an issue for individual therapy_ , he thought, and refocused his attention on the woman who was speaking, Lisa. She was nice enough, but it was so damn awkward.

 

“Alright. So we’re going to start with introductions again today. Make sure to say why you’re here, folks, and don’t be shy, okay?” she smiled, a little too happy.

 

The circle started back at the girl with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes. Even though he was definitely not into girls, he had to admit that she was pretty. “Hi, I’m Beverly, and I’m anorexic.” she said dryly, picking at her nail polish.

 

Next was a boy who was tall and skinny with black hair and sharp blue eyes, though when he spoke, he always sounded unsure. “I-I’m B-buh-Bill, and I have d-d-duh-depression.”

 

“I’m Richie, and I have depression.” He was cute, Eddie thought, but he would never make a move. He was pretty sure this Richie guy was known for being slightly hyperactive and besides, relationships formed here were doomed from the start.

 

“Oh-- I’m Alice, and I have anxiety and OCD,” the only other girl said. She was short, with black hair and soft blue eyes. She was always kind to others, which Eddie thought was really cool of her, especially in a place like this. She only had group with them though, and was pretty separated from them the rest of the time.

 

“Uh, I’m Stan, and I have OCD and anxiety too.” Stan was nice, and Eddie and him had actually bonded over their disgust about disease and keeping things clean, to which both of them had agreed that this place had about one saving grace: it was ridiculously sanitary. At least it had _that_ going for it.

 

Mike was next, a seemingly scary guy who was actually really soft-spoken and cool. "I'm Mike, and I have depression and anxiety."

 

Now he had to go. Eddie rehearsed his line over and over: _I’m Eddie, I have anxiety, I’m Eddie, I have anxiety, I’m Eddie, I have anxiety…_

 

“Eddie?” said Lisa. He jumped.

 

“Oh- uh, I’m Eddie, and I have um.. anxiety.” _Nice going, Kaspbrak_ , he thought, scolding himself mentally. He couldn’t even say his pre-rehearsed line right. Great.

 

After Eddie was Ben, a sweet kid who wrote poetry all the time and was nice to everyone. He seemed to be into Beverly, but maybe that was because they had the same exact issues. “I’m Ben, and I have an eating disorder.” he said softly, looking at the ground while he spoke.

 

“Alright, great! Today we’re going to play a game. I’m assuming you have all seen ‘Jeopardy’, correct?” Lisa said, pulling papers out of her bag. _Oh God, here we go._ “This is called ‘Coping Skills Jeopardy’. I’m gonna split you guys into teams and you’ll compete against each other, just like the show. It’ll teach some good lessons, I hope.” She passed the papers around, and everybody scanned the papers with looks of irritation on their faces.

 

Here was Eddie’s moral conflict: he felt bad for resenting Lisa, because she was clearly trying her best, and she had good intentions, but shit like this was so over the top that he couldn’t help but judge her. Jeopardy? While discussing their fucking triggers? Really? He rolled his eyes at the column that included dumb jokes, like those were going to help him right now.  This was so stupid. Now, he only felt bad for his mom for spending her money on this.

 

Eddie ended up on a team with Richie, Eddie, Bill and Mike, who were cool enough, he supposed. Mostly though, he was glad for Richie, who despite his hyperactiveness, was actually helping to defuse some of the tension.

 

“Do you want to take.. uh.. True or False for two hundred?” Mike said, glancing over the paper.

 

Richie cracked a grin. “I’ll take ‘Episodes of Blinding Rage for two hundred, Alex,” and Bill, who rarely even smiled, actually laughed.

 

Mike shook his head, but laughed too. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

Lisa came around to check on them. “Have you guys decided on a question yet?”

 

“Actually, we just did.” Richie said, putting on his best fake smile. “We’ll take ‘Managing Your Contempt for five hundred, Lisa.”

 

Eddie held back a laugh. Lisa, however, was less amused. “I know you like to crack jokes, Richie, but this is serious.”

 

“Okay, alright, we picked True or False for two hundred.” Mike said.

 

The other group pretended to be interested. Eddie zoned out as he observed them, all in different states of paying attention. Ben was mostly talking to Beverly, laughing as she told him a joke or something, while Stan and Alice tried to entertain themselves on the side. The two of them both had OCD, so they seemed to get along well. He wished he could get on with someone like that. Sure, he had talked to all of the group therapy kids at least once, but he wasn’t exactly buddies with them-- they had only talked for like two seconds. Eddie could barely start a conversation with someone he knew well, let alone near strangers, although they did know he had anxiety, so there was that.

 

Just as he was thinking about starting a conversation, Richie tapped him on the shoulder. “Psst, it’s your turn to share.”

 

Eddie turned bright red. “About what?” he whispered back.

 

“Your triggers.”

 

He took a deep sigh. “Well, I guess it would probably be new situations with unfamiliar people. Also, stuff like presenting a project or.. reading in class.”

 

“Good, Eddie. How do you deal with that?”

 

“I don’t know, I uh, take deep breaths and try and calm myself down.”

 

Lisa smiled, and Eddie knew he had said at least something right. “Good use of constructive coping methods, and not destructive ones. Guys, make sure you are channeling your anxiety, depression, or general urges into something positive, on another note.”

 

As she kept talking, Eddie zoned out again, and when he looked up, Richie was talking. The other kids kept losing it while he cracked more jokes, again, to the disapproval of Lisa, who was trying to be serious. He thought it was kind of rude, but the less mature part of him said it was entertaining. Group therapy was boring, anyway.

 

After Alice finished telling a story about the one time she organized her books for four hours and until she fell asleep standing up, they were finally released to go. Eddie made a line for the cafeteria and as he walked, he thought about he had ended up here.

 

It had all started when his mother, who always obsessed over how sick he was, noticed he was pretending to be ill. Normally, it was the other way around-- he was forced to take his meds, and he acted like he didn’t know it was bullshit. But when his mother found him hunched over the toilet pretending to vomit in order to get out of school (the thought of going practically gave him hives) for about the fourth day in a row, she had pressed him for details, and he eventually gave it up: the fear he had of catching someone’s disease and dying, or just going to school and facing the kids that made fun of him for being gay and short was preventing him from going, and then the fact that his grades were slipping now that he was missing school. After that, she immediately assumed it was some kind of deathly disease that was manifesting in his head, and so they went to the E.R.

 

The doctor assured Eddie’s mother that it was not, in fact, some kind of crazy unknown disease he had gotten, and after filling out a lot of forms, the doctor said that it was probably anxiety. She recommended therapy, and off they went, where everything was kind-of-sort-of better. However, things hit a sharp decline when Eddie returned back to see his locker covered in graffiti, and his books and backpack all gone missing. The second he walked down the hallway and saw “STUPID FAGGOT” spray painted on there, his stomach dropped instantly. It wasn’t over though: when he opened the locker door, he was greeted by more words: “JUST DIE ALREADY.”

 

Maybe he would, Eddie thought. So he went home that day, and began the search for as many pills as he could find (the ones that weren’t bullshit) while his mom was gone. This was hard enough, almost enough to deter Eddie from the whole task itself, but oh well, he was already knee deep in trouble anyway. So why not? Needless to say, his mind wasn’t exactly the clearest, but he still downed a grand total of sixteen different medications and went to sleep. It was a little scary, but equal parts relieving. No more school, no more asshole kids, no more crazy mom, no more…

 

Turns out, it wasn’t the end. Far from it, in fact, and so there Eddie sat in a hospital bed, where he woke up disoriented and tired, way too tired. His eyelids felt like they were made out of lead, and life itself didn’t even feel real anymore. His mouth tasted disgustingly sour, for no about no discernible reason (he would later come to learn it was the charcoal they had used to help get out some of the drugs left in his system), and the lights were way too bright in the room. Worst of all, he realized something extra shitty: he couldn’t even _die_ right.

 

His mother had badgered him for hours after: _“Why would you do this?” “What have I done wrong?” “How come you didn’t talk to me?” “I thought you were doing better now!” “You’re a very sick boy, Eddie, you should’ve asked for help!”_  

 

He just pretended to be asleep, but it didn’t work for long, because then came another psychological evaluation, and then came another thing; he would have to go to Derry Psychiatric. And now, three months later, that was how Eddie was still here, eating slightly cold mashed potatoes, entertaining himself by people watching, as he did everyday, and wondering how life would be different if he hadn’t tried to kill himself back in December.

 

*************

 

Lunch time was the worst part of the day for Beverly. She was supposed to finish eating in thirty minutes, but she’d be lucky if it was forty or fifty, and that was after she spent time ordering the foods by color (ROYGBIV, duh), and then alphabetical, and then shuffled them around a little bit just for variety. Only then would she bother to poke at some of the limp vegetables on her plate, maybe choking down a green bean or two. Moral of the story: she almost never finished lunch, so most days, it was a meal replacement shake, which had even more calories than a normal meal, making it indefinitely worse than just eating the actual food, but it didn’t disgust her as much.

 

Either way, the process was isolating. She had really only connected with one person since she had gotten here, and that was Ben. Ben, who she had initially felt bad for: a fat kid with an ED? But soon she realized that number one, she had no room to talk: both of them were deep in the throes of fighting against their eating disorders, and number two, he was an excellent friend. Sometimes they were helpful for each other, stopping the other one from purging, or starving themselves, or sometimes they were like each other’s bad voices-- a sort of toxic echo chamber. But either way, it was good to have someone on her side, which needless to say, she hadn’t experienced in a while. Even when her dad sent her away, claiming it was for her own good, he had failed her in a way too. In fact, the entire reason Beverly was even here was partially because of _him_.

 

But maybe it was a good thing she had ended up at Derry Psychiatric, after all. Certainly better than the kids at her school who were always dumping food on her in some kind of ironic twist, or her dad coming far too close. Even if she did have to eat, and even if it was too cold in here, and a little embarrassing to sit in group therapy and disclose all of her shit around strangers. It sucked-- but maybe it wasn’t the worst ever. After all, these kids were kind of like her, in a way. So when Beverly got her food, she made sure to sit by Eddie.

 

*************

 

Richie got his food like usual, and made a beeline for his normal empty spot, only to see Eddie, the short little asthmatic (and damn cute) kid from group with Beverly, who he had regarded as a pretty cool person. They even had taken smoke breaks together, so all signs were pointing to just… going over there and sitting down. Fuck it. Besides, he wanted to talk to Eddie.

 

“Hi,” he said, setting his food down. “I figured I’d invite myself to this party.”

 

“Hey,” Beverly said, smiling. “Why’d you sit with us?” Eddie looked equally confused.

 

Richie shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to be, and besides, group is getting kind of weird, now that it’s been a while and like.. none of us talk.” He didn’t fail to notice the completely untouched food on her plate.

 

She nodded. “Cool.”

 

“This is like the depression Breakfast Club.” Eddie said quietly, and Richie choked a little, not expecting him to say that. Beverly just grinned.

 

“You’re not wrong.” Beverly replied.

 

Bill and Mike soon came into the cafeteria, and Richie motioned for them to come over. “You guys cool with it?” he asked, a little too late, because the both of them were both coming, albeit looking puzzled as fuck.

 

Beverly and Eddie both nodded, and though they weren’t exactly best friends, there was a sort of camaraderie between all of them. It felt natural, and Richie just hoped the other kids felt the same. He would’ve asked Stan, but he was by himself like always, flipping through notebooks together and quietly reflecting, and he didn’t know if he even wanted the company.

 

Bill, Mike, and Ben sat down, somewhat reluctantly.

 

“W-w-wuh-what’s this?” Bill said.

 

Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured, since we see each other all the time, we might as well talk. Ben and I already do, but the rest of us.. not so much.” Mike nodded at that sentiment.

 

“Yeah, t-th-that makes sense. Is S-s-Stan going to sit with us?”

 

Richie shrugged. “If they want. You can ask. I just figured he had his own thing going on, I didn’t want to interrupt it.”

 

Bill looked a little taken aback at that, but Richie decided not to push it.

 

“However, Eddie said a good thing earlier: this is basically the depression Breakfast Club,” Richie said, ignoring Mike’s raised eyebrow. “We kind of know each other’s worst things already. You all seem cool enough. We were all forced to play Coping Skills Jeopardy together. I think that’s enough of a basis for a stable relationship.”

 

Mike laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

 

“I don’t know about you guys, but it’s been really lonely in here sometimes.” Eddie said, pushing the food around his plate.

 

Ben nodded. “I mean, Beverly and I talk, but not to the rest of you guys.”

 

“Now we just need to get Stan in here, and the group’s pretty much complete.” Beverly grinned.

 

“T-th-that’s probably not going to b-b-be easy. He’s O-oh-OCD, they probably have his own r-r-rituals he likes to do.” Bill suggested, and they all took a quick look at the pair, engrossed in whatever they were talking about.

 

“Rituals? Bill, it’s not a cult. If we asked, he'd probably be up for it,” Richie replied.

 

“You d-d-do it then.”

 

“Fine. Stan! Do you wanna come sit with us?” he yelled from across the room, being a little louder than necessary just to grate on Bill’s nerves, who was now blushing furiously.

 

“Uh, okay!” he yelled back, gathering his stuff. “What’s going on?”

 

“We all decided to sit together, and talk, because you know, we all have group together and stuff. And it can get kinda lonely,” Beverly said, and you could see the both of them thinking about it for a second.

 

After a moment of consideration, he spoke. “Alright, sounds cool.”

 

“So now we’re officially the depression Breakfast Club?” Mike asked, laughing, and the rest of the group smiled at that, even Stan who didn’t entirely get the joke.

 

“If we’re going with self-depreciating names, what about the Loser’s Club?” Stan suggested, and they all knew it: that was it.

 

“Hey, good one, Stan the man!” Richie said, and they all subtly agreed.

 

“The Loser’s Club it is,” Eddie grinned, and that was it: the start of something amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to leave kudos/comment/drop some feedback if you enjoyed!! thanks so much for taking the time to read. this will get shippier btw.. right now is a lot of exposition and establishment-- btw i promise more details/backstory on the other losers eventually too :)
> 
> as always: my tumblr is kasqbraks.tumblr.com, feel free to stop by and hmu!


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